I have a bad feeling about this.

On the one hand, I was pleased that Merlin and I had reached an understanding as to the immediate cessation of the stream of praise he'd been sluicing down upon me during this journey.

I say "understanding" . . .

What I mean is that he understood if he kept it up, he would be banished back to the place between the realms. I still wasn't entirely clear how I'd managed it the first time, but I'd made it clear I was feeling pretty fucking motivated to give it another whirl.

So, the cheerleading had abruptly stopped.

In its place, though, he seemed to have developed a cloying need to ingratiate himself through the incessant delivery of pop-culture references.

I was finding it bloody annoying.

Especially as I realised that this method of making friends was basically my entire personality. I was starting to understand a bit more about my lack of a healthy social life.

We were stood at the very edge of what I was told was the Enchanted Forest. It was not especially clear to me what was different about this particular collection of trees and bushes as opposed to those we'd been travelling through for the last few days.

But, you know, I was currently in the company of King Arthur, Merlin, Sir Bors, and a sword and a shield viciously disagreeing about the rules of the card game, 'Beggar my Neighbour.'

Some things you just have to take on trust.

For fuck's sake, how many times! If an Ace is played, the next player must turn over four cards, one at a time. You've been hit on the head too many fucking times.

And you've been spending too many hours stuck in places you shouldn't. Who cares about an Ace? The King is the most important card. An Ace just means you turn one over. Four turnovers for a King, three for a Queen, two for a Jack and ONE for the ace. You pointy-headed, taboo-spouting tease of a prick.

It was undoubtedly a vibe.

"Will everyone shut up!" Say what you like about Arthur, and I've been saying plenty, he could undoubtedly command a silence. He looked over at Sir Bors. "Can you feel it?"

Bors nodded. "The Forest doesn't want us here."

I kind of understood the Forest's point of view.

"No," Arthur jumped down from Llameri and dragged his spear, Rhongomynyad, free from her saddle.

Of course, he takes the spear. Two magical, speaking weapons at his disposal, and the thing he takes is just a sharp pointy stick. He's basically a caveman. Don't know why we bother.

I wish I could find it in me to like Wynebgwrthucher. She gave Arthur so much shit that I felt like we would be natural allies. But, man, she was a mood hoover.

My least favourite character in The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy was Marvin. I couldn't help but feel Wynebgwrthucher's vibe kill would be the final nail in his little metal coffin of despair.

"You're sure the track of the kidnappers leads through here?"

Both Bors and I did our best not to exchange glances. Since kicking off in pursuit of Guinevere and those who stole her, we had not had a moment to properly discuss how we wanted this to play out. The big man had been doing an excellent job of selling his hitherto unheralded tracking abilities, but I worried the act was all starting to feel a touch thin.

Thus far, Arthur had seemed happy to accept his directions - with my occasional sotto-voiced "Merlin agrees" as an added backup - but there was surely a limit to how many times Bors could stare at a bush, nod sagely and go 'they went thataway.'

Nevertheless, despite my misgivings, we had reached the Enchanted Forest, our first destination on this little quest after Malageant. I wasn't totally sure why Guinevere had felt the need to have a properly dangerous place as the first of our little quest destinations, but the time to ask those questions was probably before actually enacting the plan.

The ransom note had directed us to enter it and find a mystical hermit within who would have a clue to our next stop of the Perilous Bridge of Reflections. Queen Igraine had told us to leave the "little details to me", but I couldn't help but feel that now we were actually about to go into the Forest, a bit more clarity about things like 'who', 'where', 'when' and 'how' would be of help . . .

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Fuck me, this plan SUCKED.

Bors sniffed ostentatiously - trust me, it's a thing - and then spat on the floor. "A small band of warriors came this way, and they're holding a hostage. If it's not Malageant and Guinevere, it's a pretty big coincidence."

Arthur took a few steps forward and prodded at the ground experimentally with the length of his spear. Immediately, a shimmery green barrier sprang into life, and a coil of vines shot out of the undergrowth. These vines, covered in tiny thorns and leaves that shimmered, snaked their way towards Arthur.

He swore and stepped backwards, but they pursued him, twining and twisting around each other, forming a writhing mass. In moments, they reached the tip of his spear and wrapped around its shaft.

No, this was not as sexual as it sounds.

The vines spiralled upwards, binding the spear in a tight embrace, their thorns never quite piercing the wood but gripping it with a strength that clearly surprised the Prince. He attempted to pull Rhongomynyad free, but the more he struggled, the tighter the vines seemed to hold on, as if each tug only encouraged their determined grasp.

This would seem a good moment for the group's wizard to offer some assistance . . .

To be honest, I wasn't against watching Arthur struggle a little. On the other hand, letting him become a snack for Audrey II would seem a touch counterproductive to the whole journey.

And, you know, the whole reason for your existence in this realm.

I suppose when Merlin put it like that . . .

I condensed a ball of Qi into my hand and refashioned it using my connection to the Fire element. I'd been making some pretty decent strides with my cultivation of late. Apparently, this sort of usage was fairly rudimentary in the grand scheme of things, but I enjoyed the feeling of turning the blobs of purple paint into something different.

With a flick of my finger, I directed the now-fiery glowing ball to the mound of vines, slowly dragging Arthur towards the trees - despite Bors' best efforts at pulling him back.

The moment my Qi struck the greenery, there was a soft whumph, a screech that sounded uncannily like a giant anthropomorphic Venus Flytrap getting its fingers burned and not liking it one bit, and the vines let go and vanished.

The legends of the Enchanted Forest speak of the need for those seeking entry to demonstrate their worthiness. I doubt we will likely be allowed access unless we can show the purity of our intent.

I relayed Merlin's words to the rest of the party. I managed not to include my commentary as to how that sort of information would have been pretty damn useful a touch earlier.

My dear, you have barely talked to me for the last few days. You can hardly complain about not having the information you need when being as talkative as Bartleby, the Scrivener.

"Who?"

Bartleby the Scrivener. Famously taciturn character from a Melville short story.

"Melville?"

Without wishing to be condescending, you moan about my using pop culture references to bond with you, and then you display ignorance of more literary references. I have only so much time and effort available to parse my conversational style to your requirements.

"I'm glad you weren't seeking to be condescending there. Otherwise, you would have been quite an arse."

I realised Arthur had asked me something whilst I was busy internally duelling with a colossal dickhead of a wizard.

"Sorry, I missed that. What was it again?"

Arthur paused as if swallowing down a sharp retort. "I asked, wizard, if you had any words of advice?"

I don't know why, but Arthur's continued failure to use my name was starting to get to me. It didn't help I kind of thought he was doing it on purpose. "We're pursuing the kidnappers of your wife. I'm not sure there's much more purer intent than that? Maybe try again?"

I mean, the whole quest was bollocks, but Arthur didn't know that. Maybe the Forest would let him in if he truly believed it was true? If there was some sort of psychic barrier of 'pure intent' that triggered the vines, he should be able to overcome it by thinking about his quest.

Hopefully, Bors and I would be able to slip in after him. Maybe.

Fucking hell. This was yet another terrible element to a terrible plan in a long line of terrible plans. Sometimes I had visions of Monty Python and the Holy Grail and feared we were not living up to that level of efficiency and professionalism.

Arthur nodded, then pointed at Drynwyn. "I have a better idea. Will your sword let me bear it for a few moments?" He replaced the spear in Llameri's saddlebag.

Abso-fucking-lutely

I unbuckled my scabbard and threw it over to Arthur. He caught it and unsheathed the blade in one smooth movement. Despite everything, I had to admire the man's balls. It wasn't so long ago that holding on to this sword had pretty much killed the guy. Now, here he was, risking it happening again to save a wife he really did not care that much about.

The man was a steaming pile of contradictions.

And it took one to know one.

Arthur spun the sword one-handed in an entirely unnecessary way, which made Drynwyn giggle in pleasure. Not a sentence I ever want to think again.

He then held the sword upright in the guard position, the blade resting a few centimetres from his lips. I saw his lips move as he whispered some instructions.

I realised what he had planned a little too late as Drynwyn ignited, and Arthur tossed it across the shimmering barrier to the Enchanted Forest.

We watched the fire blossom and listened to the screaming for a good half-an-hour before silence again returned to the woods.

It was only broken by Drynwyn's voice calling back to us.

All done. There was some sort of fucking big-arsed tree thing back here. Pretty flammable, though.

The Guardian of the Enchanted Forest has stood for millennia. I do not believe I have seen any versions of reality where it was slain in such a manner.

I wasn't sure whether there was more awe or horror in Merlin's voice.

I fear what has just occurred will have significant repercussions.

Bors and I fell in behind Arthur as he crossed over the place where the ethereal green barrier had stood.

"I have a bad feeling about this."

Hypocrite.